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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905205">Always There</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoydonnie/pseuds/ahoydonnie'>ahoydonnie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sonic the Hedgehog - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:41:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoydonnie/pseuds/ahoydonnie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For a week now, Agent Stone has been concerned about a man— a man who to the government never existed. Conversely, during the same week, on a different planet light years away, Dr. Ivo Robotnik has been missing a man— a man whom he’s never missed before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone, Stobotnik - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Box</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There it was- a sleek black box sitting on the doorstep of the office. It had been laying there for about five days. Stone found it to be a miracle that nobody stole it, but then again, no one ever came up here. Every day he opened the door ever so slightly, just to see it there, the tears stinging behind his eyes. He hated that box, seeing it made it real.</p>
<p>
  <em> Robotnik was gone. </em>
</p>
<p>It had now been a week since Dr. Ivo Robotnik traveled to San Francisco. He still hadn’t returned. Stone grabbed the box and slammed the door shut, and leaned against it. He knew exactly what was in that box. It didn’t matter how small and insignificant the contents seemed. His hands still trembled as he clutched the black package.</p>
<p>For seven days, Stone lingered around the office. Seven days of coffee, seven days of disgusting takeout, seven days of waiting for Robotnik. He had the absurd hope that one day the doctor would slam open that door, and even if he were scuffed, tattered, and torn, Stone would be overjoyed to have him back. But for now, he was absolutely boss-less.</p>
<p>Knowing Robotnik, any other assistant would be happy to be rid of him, but not Stone. His body ached from trying to sleep in a rolling chair, and without his trusty electric razor, his facial hair threatened to evolve into a fully fledged beard. In essence, the usually clean cut Agent Stone was a mess, but remained faithful despite conditions. He tossed the box on the cluttered desk and stared at it, through weary eyes. “I knew you’d come,” He whispered to it, voice groggy from underuse. “just not when we needed you to.” </p>
<p>Carefully, he lifted the top flap of the shiny box, and sharply inhaled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Rock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>TRANSMISSION FAILURE.</em>
  </b>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>TRY AGAIN?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>TRANSMISSION FAILURE.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>TRY AGAIN?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>TRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGAINTRYAGA</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence of the deserted mushroom planet. A few feet away from where the shards of the newly broken smartwatch lay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shoulders raised and lowered, fists tightly balled, as he raggedly inhaled and exhaled. The reality of what he’d done slowly began to set in. His fingertips pressed deeply into his temples as a stream of yelling and cursing left his mouth. The only way to tell the time in this godforsaken place, destroyed. At his own hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once, Dr. Ivo Robotnik was </span>
  <span>a genius.<br/></span>
  <span>But that was a long time ago. Or it could have been yesterday. He didn’t know, nor did he give a damn. All he knew now were </span>
  <em>
    <span>mushrooms</span>
  </em>
  <span>. These atrocious fungi spanned across the planet, and it angered him to no end. Had it been under different circumstances, and had he been in a different frame of mind, the once great Robotnik would have been proud to have achieved interplanetary travel without entering space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, he spent his days searching for a signal across the land, but without the watch, he lost his current hobby. He limped his way back to the wreckage of his craft and collapsed in the seat, eyes barely open under the red lenses of his goggles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun bore down on him, like an animal lying in the desert. Robotnik despised this feeling— he refused to give it precedence over trying to get back home, but with a sprained knee, a broken wrist, and what was probably a head injury, how could you ignore it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There he sat, stewing in anger, a scowl locked on his face, but his arms too tired to fold. He was a king in an empty throne room. Empty, except for a giant rock that sat, smashed into the machinery of the wrecked ship. He tilted his head ever so slightly, and patted the rock, wincing in slight pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d broken his wrist two days ago trying to lift the rock, but he wasn’t as strong as he was before. Time passed so strangely here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A faint smile appeared under his untamed mustache. “At least I’ve got you stuck with me,” He murmured hoarsely to the rock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At least I still have my assistant.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Glasses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The<em> truck barreled down the road, just in time for Stone to catch the bed of it. His eyes tracked the truck down the road, then passed over to the house. The Doctor. If he wasn’t out here, ordering him to start up their vehicle, then something must be wrong. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> He flung the door open, a mass of black fabric meeting his eyes. Quickly crouching down, Stone turned it over to find his boss, his left eye threatening to swell shut.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The mission had been going incredibly well so far, but when it came to actually locating and catching this… thing, it was proving to be quite the challenge. Focusing on the task at hand also became a challenge for Stone. After the rush of working with the military the first time, going back to the lab and only being spoken to when Robotnik needed something was almost agonizing.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> This mission brought them the closest they’ve ever been— even now, Stone was being held by the jaw, inches from Robotnik’s face. Sure, he was being reprimanded, but any interaction was better than none at all, right? Making progress, he told himself. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Swiftly, Robotnik let him go, and put on his glasses. The left lens tilted at an uncomfortable angle, and the bridge was bent beyond repair. He grumbled to himself and told Stone to order a new pair. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “They know what kind I like,” </em>
</p>
<p>And know they did. Stone put a hand over his mouth, and dragged it up to his forehead.</p>
<p>Inside, cradled by a black velvet form custom made for them, were a thin pair of equally jet black shades. Frameless, how the doctor liked them.</p>
<p>Biting his knuckles, Stone squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to look at them. Teardrops fell, and were promptly absorbed by the velvet.</p>
<p>They were glasses, they were just <em> glasses.</em></p>
<p>He closed the box hurriedly and hid it in a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. But it wasn’t out of his mind. Robotnik was all he could think about. He hadn’t even gone home since the doctor left for San Francisco. Maybe, just maybe, he was still there somehow, just caught up in something.</p>
<p>Wherever he was, Stone just hoped he was okay. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Student</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The long strides Ivo Robotnik took wordlessly cleared the pathway for him. It wasn’t odd that a person of his age was pursuing higher education, no, what puzzled the students of this particular university was the man himself. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dressed in all black and often confused for a professor, Robotnik was studying for not one, not two, but six degrees at once. When asked about it, he’d sneer and look away. If you were lucky, you might receive a “that’s for me to know, and you to mind your business”. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All in all, the collective student body shared the firm belief that he was absolutely full of it, and not to be interacted with. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All except one.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When he finally made it to the lecture hall, (twenty-five minutes early as per usual) the professor was conversing with a younger student. Robotnik eyed him for a late freshman or early sophomore. The young man was standing in front of the door. Typical freshman behavior, not being where you’re supposed to be. Naturally, Robotnik brushed right past him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The man looked up and for a brief second, the two met eyes. The scan took no more than a second— his soft golden brown eyes, the light creases in his face from smiling too much, Robotnik noticed it all. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry, I—” The other student began, looking away, but the professor clapped a hand on his shoulder.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stone, I’d like you to meet another student of mine, this is Ivo,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Robotnik winced at the sound of his name, and offered a hand out of niceties.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Robotnik,” He corrected, darting sharp eyes at the professor. With a smile, Stone took it, and as he did, it was almost as if the already deep set frown lines on Robotnik’s face dared to disappear.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m Stone, it’s nice to meet you,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flight chair used to be comfortable a while ago. He curled up in the chair and tied strips of fabric around his wrist. He earned doctorates in many things, but funnily enough, being an actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>doctor </span>
  </em>
  <span>was not one of them. He made do with what he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Long ago, before his soul had gone sour, he did think about being a doctor. But as time wore on, he learned he had a very strong lack of bedside manner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today, he grumbled to himself under his breath about how heavy the </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid rock was to carry</span>
  </em>
  <span>— but he paused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rock had no face, not even a stray mark or line to trick his human eye into creating a picture. Although, when Robotnik searched hard enough, he could make out the faintest outline of—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He wasn’t going to think about him anymore, dammit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He twirled his unkempt mustache around his finger as he searched for something else to think about, but it just kept echoing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way he spoke, the way he smiled that stupid human smile. He was vastly inferior to machines, yet he was always on Robotnik’s mind. Especially now, since there wasn’t much else to be occupied by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like a whistle in the wind, he could just faintly hear it— the voice of Agent Stone.</span>
</p>
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